


A Ghost In the Room

by Skquill



Category: The Grief of Others (novel)
Genre: No one has heard of this book and that's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2018-12-02 13:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11510298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skquill/pseuds/Skquill
Summary: This is about the metaphorical ghost that is haunted by a family.





	1. A Ghost In The Room

**Author's Note:**

> When I first picked up The Grief of Others, I had heard that it was about a family trying to move on from a tragedy. However, It started taking a turn and now people ask if it's a comedy.  
> The idea for this small piece was brought on from people I saw and how they would ask if the book was a comedy, and also because of this character, Gordie.  
> The characters are a family that won't talk about the event, and a ghost-like kid who gets stuck in their grieving.

The boy didn’t give off much of a presence. If anything, the canine was more of a person then he was. The room kept filling with people though, so he sat down, gave a few quick smiles and chatter before falling silent.  
The father, a burly looking man with a kind heart, offered him a drink. His eyes went from the newcomer, to the pot of water that sat on the stove.  
“Oh, no. i-I couldn’t… I don’t want to impose, and I really just came here to make sure that you’re daughter got home safe.” That was the first sentence he actually said. His eyes shifted from the table, to the worn in sweater he was given, to the young girl playing with the dog.   
The thing that set this ghost apart from everyone was that they were all tied together with the same last name. He was intruding, and he had been since his dog pushed the girl into the Hudson.   
The girl with the misshapen coffee mug arched an eyebrow at him. She both scared the ghost and also intrigued him.  
Why was she here?   
Why was he here?  
The father sat back, and looked at his daughter. She was wearing a purple bathrobe and looked more like she just got out of a shower, and not out of the Hudson River on a rainy, cold, April day.   
The only sound for a bit was off audible sips from the girl with the misshapen mug, and giggles from the daughter as she play with the mound of fluff that was the dog that pushed her into the water.  
“Thank you.” The father said in all of the quiet. “Thanks for bringing Biscuit home.” He sounded defeated when he said it. Like the daughters absence was a normal thing.  
The ghost wanted to ask if everything was okay–to ask, why was she not in school on a school day? Why was she alone in the park, sprinkling ashes and chicken bones into the water?  
But he didn’t. He just nodded, accepted the thanks, and went back to blending in with the background.  
The room got more crowded when another person stepped in. He was big for his age, round, with curly hair that fell almost over his eyes. He scanned the room, the busy kitchen.  
“Hey, Paul.” The father said, the name was dripping with fatigue.   
The boy looked at everyone.   
At the daughter in a bathrobe, playing with a dog.  
At the girl with the misshapen mug, sipping loudly.  
At the defeated father.   
If he looked hard enough he could see the ghost. Brown eyes meeting a skittish, heterochromic blue and half brown.  
“Who’s  _he?”_


	2. The Ghost in the Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ghost grew up with seeing grains of rice around the house, uncooked and painted on. His eyes picked up the small details. 
> 
> There were two grooms on the cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the idea to write this after reading more of the novel.
> 
> I love this gay metaphorical ghost.

The girl with the misshapen mug was lying on the grass. Sunbathing under the grey sky. She looked out of place.

She made Gordie feel scared.    
He looked at her from a distance, he wanted to turn around and walk the other way, but his feet were stuck to the sidewalk. Ebie got free of his grip and ran to the misplaced girl. 

The ghost shouted more out of habit, and not to warn the other person. “Ebie, no!!” He started to run after the dog, biting back his next sentence.  _ Don’t get me involved with this family, again... _

They exchanged few words when the dog was retrieved. She gave him a smile, showing all her white teeth. She was perfect.    
  


She reminded the ghost of a boy that he met. It was earlier in the year, under the cover of a forest. The surroundings were coolers and beers, acoustic guitars around a fire. That boy was also a ghost, but he was more human than Gordie.    
They sat close together, drinking, tell jokes. When the fire was out, they walked back like nothing happened, and that’s when the ghost fell.    
Hugh turned around and exhaled, steam was produced from the cold night. “You alright?” The ghost could only nod, and grew self aware of how close he was to the ground. How close Hugh was to him, if he wanted to Gordie could have closed the gap between them in a swift motion. Tugging at his collar, maybe tugging at the other boys hair later on.   
But he didn’t. Instead, he noted that there was a scrape on his wrist.   
Even ghosts bleed.

The ghost and the misplaced girl walked together for a bit. The canine padded on ahead of them, occasionally breaking the silence that they had with a bark or a retrieval of a stick.   
“How long have you had the dog for?” She started. It caught him off guard, he was too focused on forests, fires and, kisses that never happened.   
“A bit. She’s my Dads dog.” Two sentences this time. Both short.   
Jess nodded, giving him another perfect smile. “No Mom?”   
“She’s dead.” He said it too quickly, even though it was out of habit. Jessica stopped smiling, she looked almost disappointed.   
_ At her question?  _ _   
_ _ At his answer? _ _   
_ _ At him? _ _   
_ “She died after I was born; an infection.” He didn’t cry over someone he never knew. He continued walking, throwing sticks to the dog.    
“You really know what to say to a soon-to-be single mom.” She laughed. He wanted to laugh too, but he kept quiet. He dissected her sentence for a moment. She gave him a smile, but stopped when he never answered her back. “Not much of a talker?”    
The ghost noted her clothing, she was wearing the hand-me-down sweater that Gordie had worn when he delivered the youngest Ryrie daughter. He was wet from rain, and the father was kind enough to let him wear that while his coat dried.   
_ Why was she wearing it now? Why was she trying to have a conversation with a ghost? _ __   
“I just don’t have anything to really say.” That was his longest sentence.    
It was cut short by the smell of a corpse, and a dog wagging her tail and carrying the dead bird closer.   
“Shit.” He muttered it under his breathe. The Mother-to-be didn’t hear the ghost.   
  


“Want any help?” The Mother-to-be was direct with her request. It was more of a demand.   
“With… what exactly?” The ghost had loaded the dog into the back of his pickup truck.   
“Your dog. What are you going to do now about her?”   
“Give her a bath…” The ghost stood taller than her, but she felt more in control of the situation. For a moment, he looked at the surroundings of the park. Empty. He looked back at Ebie, then back at the girl.    
“Great! So then I’ll come over and help!” She started to make her way to the passenger side before Gordie could protest.   
Another glare at the dog.  _ Stop getting me involved with this family!  _ The ghost shut his eyes and focused on the pain of his nails digging into his palm.    
The ghost could never protest against anyone.    
Much like the walk, they sat in silence. The Mother-to-be would steal glances at him though. Trying to make his faded appearance more solid; more human.    
“You smoke?” She opened her window and looked at herself from the rear-view mirror.   
“My Dad did--”   
“--So he quit?”   
“He died.”   
Ebie was kind enough to rest her head between the the two of them once those words were in the smoke scented air. Another habit of talking to quickly about people that passed. The light was red for a bit. The ghost didn’t think much of it. The Misplaced girl, however, did. Her fingers tapped on the passenger side.   
The ghost could feel her disappointment rising with each passing second, each mile they traveled. Finally boiling over when he pulled into the parking area of the condo house. The ghost could hear her thoughts as they climbed the two flights of stairs to his unit.   
_ Why did I demand to come?  _ _   
_ _ I thought this guy was a loner, living in the woods. Turns out he’s has neighbors who live right next to him. _ _   
_ As the keys turned in the lock, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. The ghost was also disappointed in himself. They had that in common.   
  
As the hot water filled in the tub, The Mother-to-be looked around the the living room, her fingers traced over the shoe boxes that rested on the shelved and in any space they would fit.    
“What did he do? Your dad?” Her free hand rose and tugged at the ghosts rolled up, plaid sleeve.    
“Postal service.” The ghost voiced another disappointment. “He had a hobby of making dioramas, they were usually from books or his imagination.” As he said it he pointed to some of them. Hansel and Gretel, and of a wedding.   
Funnily enough, he found himself pulled toward the shoebox that was decorated to look like a wedding. His father’s voice rang in the ghost’s head. A memory of a question…   
_ “Can I help?” The young ghost had asked. _ _   
_ _ “No.” The father answered quickly, before glancing at his son and noting his sad eyes. He turned and faced him. “You can’t help, because this one is for you…” _ _   
_ He pulled out the box and looked into its contents. The misplaced girl rested her head on his shoulder as she looked in with it. For a second, the ghost froze at the contact. A fresh wound was opened for him. Instead of blood, he smelt autumn, the grainy odor of beer, a burning fire, and the regrettable moment of missing a kiss.   
His mis-colored eyes fell on the mother-to-be, then on the cake. She didn’t see what was placed at the top.   
The ghost grew up with seeing grains of rice around the house, uncooked and painted on. His eyes picked up the small details.    
There were two grooms on the cake.    
One had the mismatched eyes of the ghost.   
  
She opened the jar of pickles and ate them with a vengeance. Ebie sat down in between the two, the ghost taking the small space of the floor, and the mother-to-be sprawled out on the lawn chair. She used Edie as a footrest.    
“So Jorden,” She spoke with her mouth full of bitter pickles. She got his name wrong, but the ghost didn’t mind. “What are you going to do with those shoe boxes?”   
The ghost looked up from his ball. “Why…”   
“Cause I want them to be seen!” She bit into another pickle.   
_ Why?  _ The ghost rose his head and looked at her. His head was back in the woods of that autumn day.    
“They’re heartbreaking… Capturing a moment--a creator--that will never be seen again.” She sat up and prodded the ghost with her hand.    
The ghost didn’t know what he disliked more about her. He had the thought to bark at her, to say things that he was bottling up. But he didn’t.   
He spoke a simple sentence. “It’s Gordie.”    
_ Don’t come into my house again. _ _   
_ _ Don’t get me involved again with your family. _ _   
_ _ Stop talking to me like you want something out of me. _ __   
“Excuse me?”   
The sun was setting, it rained down on her.    
“My name.”    
She sat back, head falling against the plastic of the chair. She was muttering something--a wave of apologizes. The ghost returned back to his ball. The dog snored beside the two.    
The ghost disliked how the future mother acted like a child.   
He drove her home. The father offered for him to come in. He declined, looking in at the family. The round boy--Paul--looked like he got into a fight. The little girl that fell into the Hudson was coming from down the stairs, she was holding a wet towel, and as she passed the faint smell of smoke rose to the ghosts nose. The mother-to-be walked in the house, she had with her two of the dioramas. She could keep them.   
“Are you sure?” She voiced up after Gordie declined. Her words tugged at his clothes. She batted her eyes innocently. Her voice carried a tone of guilt. “I think your company would be really nice around the place.”   
The ghost stepped back, shook his head and repeated his answer. “No.” He gave a curt nod, then disappeared under their porchlight. Stepping into his pickup truck.   
He sat at the wheel, in the Ryrie’s driveway. The dog rested her head on his shoulder.    
“Ebie, never get me involved with them again.” His pale hands curled around the wheel as he backed out.    
He drove back to the dusty condo and sat outside in the lawn chair. His lips muttered everything that he wished he could say.   
The Mother-to-be pitied the ghost. Making it apparent with her smiles, her gestures, her attitude. Guilt-tripping him to fade into that family.   
The shoe boxes showcased a life. The life of a ghost. He sat outside with the wedding shoebox, the cake was craftily made to last, it was easy to pop it out of its glued spot.    
“What do you think are the chances of me calling Hugh?” The ghost looked at the canine, she gave him a smile and a lick on his hand. He twirled the cake in his hand, eyeing the groom's, eyeing himself and the man he would marry.    
It made him smile.


	3. A Ghost Says Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that moment, she was a child.
> 
> In that moment, she was a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, I got this book for odd reasons. When I started it, I thought Gordie was this ghost that appeared and haunted this family after the loss of their child.  
> But it turned into this story, where one of the characters got pulled into this family’s grieving state, and he doesn’t want to be there.  
> As I continued reading, I started to think that this could be a religious book. One of those books that has a lot of christian undertones, but those are everywhere--so I’m not right, but I’m not wrong either.  
> As I finished the book, it brought up a phrase I wrote while I was thinking about the stars and how people can resemble them:  
> We’re all just clusters of stars and the outbursts of emotions are just exploding supernovae, and when the star is gone, and you’re left drained with tears and snot and spit, you clench your chest to center yourself. It leaves behind a clean slate; nothing remains except the vague memories that something used to be there.
> 
> I related it to the book, and to Gordie. Every character, every person, fictional or not, has times where they just explode out of raw emotion.  
> I wanted to capture that moment in this project.  
> A ghost haunted by a family.  
> A cluster of stars exploding and leaving nothing behind but the thought that something used to be there.  
> The last chapter, or Jess’s decision, wasn't a surprise to me. It anything, it just fueled the fire of her lies. She told lies to people, sure, but she also lied to herself.  
> A song I recommend to listen to when reading this is 8 Julys by Hi I'm Case. I used it to map out how this chapter would go.  
> Step into this ghosts shoes, the life he lived, the people he met. The lives of the people that he met.  
> And hey, maybe this small project made you want to read the book. Do that, I encourage it.

It had been a quiet two weeks. He enjoyed it.  
He spent it cleaning.  
The day started with the new routine, wake up, clean, discard the black garbage bags in the trash.  
Ebie helped him clean, she walked around him as he heaved the bags down the stairs; trotting beside him as he made his way back. “Don’t make me yell at you today, Eb. I have too much stuff to move,” The ghost looked at his dog as he started up the stairs to his small living quarters, she was smiling and wagging her tail. “No time to play.”  
She didn’t like that answer. Her tail fell and she padded down the stairs, out the door.  
“Eb? Ebie?” The ghost called, he stood there for a bit in the quiet. May had started and the sun was high. His grey tee-shirt was damp from sweat. The quiet broke with a rip, and a loud crunch. “Ebie! Ebie, _no!”_ __  
The ghost changed the lively dog as she ran away with the chicken bones in her jaw.  
_Chicken bones._  
The ghost halted, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Ebie, tail high, slobbering on the pavement, came next to him. They exchanged a look. Another crunch of the bones and the ghost tried to lunge at the mass of fluff. No luck. He hit the pavement with a thud. “Fine! Just don’t come to me when you choke!” He called to the dog as she lay down, front paws crossed like she was about to finish a meal fit for a king. The ghost got to his feet and brushed himself off.  
“Are you moving?” The voice made him jump, made his heart stop, made him turn around and be met with the Mother-to-be. She smiled at him with her perfect teeth, a tilt of her head as the question floated in the air.  
“Yeah… No… I-I mean…” The ghost was tongue tied. He watched as she arch an eyebrow. “I’m cleaning out my dad's stuff. Throwing away stuff--”  
“Not the dioramas though!” Her raised voice caught him off guard, she cut through his words as she placed her hands on his shirt. Her fingers curling around the fabric.  
“--What...No, no.” He spoke with a curl in his lip. “Just like, broken stuff. The majority of the stuff is old clocks. My dad, he collected them for parts for the dioramas…” She was so close to him. He was taller than her, but she clearly had a hold of the conversation. “Any-anyway, how did you get here?” He asked before she could say anything. Her fingers uncurled and fell to her side.  
“I walked, duh!” She smiled when she answered.  
_That’s a forty minute walk._  
“What do you say to a break? I think you deserve one.”  
Just like before, he couldn’t protest, she made it so he couldn’t.

“It’s so different now without the clutter.” She said it as she placed the water glass down. They sat in the freshly vacuumed living room. “I see you still have some dioramas.” Her fingers pointed to some of the shoeboxes, they were laid out neatly on the floor. “Did I tell you that John has an art friend and she’s gonna see how much your Dads art is worth.”  
_You didn’t tell me, but alright._ “Why?”  
“Cause I feel like they should be seen by more people. Imagine it, in a small gallery in the city, stands with all the dioramas. People coming in and seeing them--Seeing how tragic they are…” Her eyes fell on him, her body shifted to face him. “I bet your folks would really like to see that happen.”  
“I still don’t see why you like them so much. Why you keep finding me-er-How you…” He trailed off. He couldn’t say the words that had been rumbling in his head since the last time she was here. _How you keep worming your way into my life._  
“It’s because they can’t be recreated. Because they all hold this childlike wonder.” Her eyes went to the boxes, then to the ghost. Another perfect smile. “It’s like, finally getting rid of bad memories, finally moving on… I bet you mainly are doing this so you can move on.”  
Her hand slipped onto his. A warmth he didn’t want. He thought he felt the urge to cry. Her words did that to him. Gave him the thought to do something that he either did or not.  
To smile, to cry, to laugh.  
To intertwine his fingers into hers. To pull her close and kiss her.  
“I think what you’re doing now is...Well, I think it’s fantastic. _You’re fantastic!_ ”  
Her words tied around his neck like a noose. He was waiting to fall… Fall right into her lap. In tears, because he couldn’t take this sudden orphan state.  
He spoke up.  
“Can you stop that? That-that weird flirty attitude.” He let the words slip. Let his hand free from hers “Like, are you...Are you ever just genuine?”  
“Excuse me?” She sounded insulted. Gordie wouldn’t blame her.  
“You--You keep doing this flirtatious _thing--_ In this half assed, kinda borderline way that doesn’t really mean anything _._ Keep acting like I’m important to you, or like you know me. Putting your head on my shoulder, touching my arms, smiling wide like...Like you want something out of me! You know that it’s not gonna work, though right? I mean, you probably could tell from the second you saw me, but you still try so hard to--to flatter me--when it’s so obviously pointless.”  
Her eyes went wide, when she stood up the water in her glass shook. Her mouth moved like she was going to say something, but she never did.  
The ghost recalled that he had stuck the cake to the dashboard of the old pick up. He thought about the night in the woods more often. Thought of calling up Hugh; thought of kissing him….  
Why did she make him think of that night?  
“It’s pointless…” He repeated. “I don’t need pity, or false flattery, and flirtation.”  
She made him mad, this Mother-to-be.  
“ _Fine.”_ She finally spoke.  
She didn’t continue.  
“What?” The ghost said to the silence.  
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” The Mother-to-be had tears glossing over her eyes. The ghost thought of a few things in this moment. He thought that she would grab her water and splash it into his face before storming off. He thought that she would slap him.  
The tears fell and the ghost went pale.  
“What are we fighting about?” He voiced, his presence was gone from the room. The center, and only person in the room was Jess.  
In this moment, she was a child.  
“You-you know that, after I went home with the dioramas, I told the Ryries about you; how your parents died, how your mother died… I just… I just wanted to be liked by them! To get their approval in some way! In _any_ way!!” Her voice carried through the room, the dog rose her head at the noise. “They lost a baby, did you know that? They lost a baby and they don’t even talk about it--It died and it didn’t even last three days! And their kids? Biscuit--she--she cuts school and no one knows where she goes…”  
The cold, rainy April day. A young girl got pushed in the Harbor by a dog that was meant to rescue people. She had with her, a freshly cracked egg, chicken bones, and ashes.  
“They grew attached to you, after I told them that… After I told them about your mother…” The mother kept talking, blabbing almost. Speaking to no one. Speaking to the ghost that had faded into the background. “I sometimes think that they--they think of you as a stand in for that lost child. You’re like, the kid they never had.”  
The ghost recalled the conversation in the kitchen. A tired, defeated father sat there. His eyes looked worn, but there was a tinge to them. They were trying to spot the ghost in the room--see the child they never had.  
Grown up.  
Sitting there.  
His mismatched eyes shooting glances at everyone. At the family that tried to take him in.  
The ghost stood up, his presence was just a small part. But he looked at the crying girl for a moment.  
She was a stranger to him. That’s all she was.  
She wasn’t holding a misshapen mug, and she wasn’t misplaced, she a complete stranger.  
He moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. She cried into his shoulder. His grey tee-shirt getting wet with tears.  
“Shh…” Was all he could say to the stranger. “Shh.”  


***

  
He helped her pack the car. Throwing her stuffed duffel into the back seat.  
A week had passed.  
The stranger sat on the porch, saying goodbye to the family. Her arms wrapped around the members with ease.  
She placed a kiss on the two children's cheeks.  
The mother and her exchanged a forehead touch, muttering a conversation about losing a child, and how everything was going to be okay.  
The father stood at the driver side. His eyes fell on the ghost, they had the same tired, imaginative gaze of what could be.  
Finally, the stranger turned to the ghost. For a moment, she couldn’t see him. The canine was the only indicator.  
Jess wrapped her arms around the ghosts form. It was a small gesture.  
“I hope you have a safe flight back.” The ghost voiced.  
“I hope you find a really nice guy.” The stranger voiced.  
He watched the car drive out, drive up the road, and steadily fade away.

As the family and ghost watched, they all had the same thought…

_I'm probably never going to  see her again._


	4. A Ghost Gets Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordie Joiner is in the slow in-between of moving to live with his relatives in Washington State, and moving on from the death of his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I didn't think I'd ever update this but I've been reworking Gordie Joiner to be my own character because I just. really like him. I don't plan on updating this frequently, this is just going to be little side stories that I come up with for him and Biscuit, since they could have been really good friends, and comforts to each other but that never happened.

It was mid-afternoon, the sky was blue with a scarce amount of clouds. A cold April day, fresh from a rainstorm. Gordie was on his usual walk with Ebby. The black newfoundland was tugging him along, as if trying to get away from her leash. 

“Eb…” Gordie spoke, watching as she perked up her ears. “There are people around, I can’t let you off.” Ebby turned to him, gave him a side eye and huffed her disappointment. 

“Tell ya what,” The ghost started. “I’ll let you go when we get to the coast. You can swim in the Hudson all you want before we go back.” He quickened his pace and pat Ebby on the head. “Sound good?” 

Ebby nuzzled into his hand, giving it a few licks to affirm him.

“Ebby!! Ebby’s owner!!” 

Both the dog and ghost looked up when they heard the name. Standing a bit away, through the trees, across the street on the sidewalk, was a little girl in overalls and a long sleeved striped shirt.

She waved at them, using both arms. Gordie couldn’t help but smile at her. He watched as she crossed the vacant street and made her way over to the two.

“You going for a walk again?” She smiled at the dog first, then looked up at Gordie.

“Yup.” Gordie answered, he always felt the urge to kneel down to her level, but there was a nagging guilt that always struck him at that thought. “You getting back from school?” 

“Yeah.” Biscuit gave him a smile and tugged at the straps of her backpack, showing off her accomplishment. “I’ve officially been back at school for two weeks straight.”

“Really? That’s awesome…” Gordie returned a smile, licking his lips in thought. Then holding out the leash. “In that case, I think you should celebrate.” 

Biscuits brown eyes sparkled as she took the leash from his hands. 

“I was just finishing up… But why don’t we go to that outdoor ice cream place.” Gordie suggested, before going quiet. “Would you parents be okay… with...” He lost his voice as he watched Biscuit’s smile disappear. “It won’t take that long!” He mended.

“School just got out, and Paul hangs out with his friends after school all the time, so I’ll be fine.” Biscuit explained and she started to walk with Ebby as the ghost was left wondering who Paul was.

Going over the small moments he spent in that house, trying to sort through all the anxiety and tension to put names to faces. 

_ Have papers already been signed? Has she gone through the custody battle?  _ Gordie looked at the little girl as she walked beside Ebby. Petting the dog and getting licked back.

Then it came back to him.

It was a small moment, when Gordie was in their kitchen. Both him and Biscuit were dripping wet from the Hudson. Biscuit lying in a bunch of beach towels. Paul was the chubby teenager that walked into the crowded kitchen as Gordie was spewing out facts about how his dog was meant to rescue people and instead pushed youngest member of the Ryrie family into the coast.

_ Good times… _

The weeks after that were a blur of odd meetings. His stomach always went into knots when he remembered it.

Gordie started to walk, catching up to the two quickly. 

“So are you getting back into the swing of school?” Gordie started, he crossed his arms over his chest to occupy his hands. 

“Kind of.” Biscuit started. “I was skipping because of the stuff with Simon; though now that I’m back, I’m realizing that I do not like it.”

Gordie nodded, biting his bottom lip at trying to recall a ‘Simon’. “What do you mean?” He blurted out, raising an eyebrow.

“I learn through experience and I can’t sit still.” Biscuit answered. “When I would hide in the library there would be books that I would understand they were for adults.”

Gordie could only nod, his confusion deepening.

“I learned how to bury a body in almost every culture.” Biscuit put in. “Memorized the whole book.”

“That's what you were doing… W-with the chicken bones and eggshells, yeah?” 

Biscuit nodded and smiled. “I caused the smoke alarm to go off at home when I was doing another ritual.”

“Oh no…” Gordie cracked a smile at that. Biscuit’s laugh was what made him exhale a chuckle.

“It was okay. My dad was mad--”

“Mad Dad: Fury Road.” Gordie cut her off, then realized what he said. “Sorry I… just my brain--” He stammered.

“He did go on a warpath. But it was one of those quiet angry talks. Where he says that he’s not mad, when… when he is.” Biscuit recalled. That’s when she stopped walking; And when she did, Gordie felt like the whole world stopped as well. 

Everything came to a halt as the girl thought about what to say next. 

“How’d moving going for you?” She completely changed the subject, causing the world to keep spinning once more.

“Oh, g-good.” Gordie rubbed the back of his next. “It’s gonna take a few days to actually move stuff though. ‘Cause, y’know. Moving across the country isn’t that easy.” The ghost said and sighed. “Cousins are gonna be coming in a few week to sort through everything. Help with cleaning out the rest of the house.”

“Can I throw you a going away party?” Biscuit asked as they got to the end of the park, crossing back into town. There was something about the question that hurt Gordie. A stabbing pain that made him get misty eyed.

He came home because his Dad died, causing him to withdraw from college. Unable to understand his future, he occupied his time walking Ebby, his father’s dog, and cleaning out the small house he grew up in.

“If you want to… I don’t--I don’t know why you’d like to.” Gordie answered as they got to the ice cream parlor.

The awning was out and people were sitting at the tables with ice cream. The cloudy sky and humid temperature was a good time for a treat. 

Get anything you want.” Gordie said, giving Biscuit a smile. “My treat.”

The girl handed the leash back to Ebby. The dog let out a whine as Biscuit went to read the menu that they had out front. Gordie pulled the dog close and scratched her ears. 

“Do you want anything?” Biscuit turned to Gordie, surprising him. 

Gordie stepped next to her, passing into the shade of the awning and picking something quickly.

He took out his wallet and ordered. 

“Cute dog.” The male cashier said, placing the cones of ice cream on the counter.

“Thanks, you too.” Gordie said.

Biscuit giggled a bit as Gordie felt his face grow red. 

“I don’t own a dog,” The cashier said, giving the ghost a smile. “But I will take that compliment.”

_ Please don’t. I’m new to this whole gay thing.  _

Gordie just stammered, unable to form a word or actual sentence. He tapped his fingers on the counter before grabbing the cones and turning around.

Biscuit had a big smile on her face, and was biting back laughter. “Did you just get a date?”

Gordie didn’t answer her. 

He just handed her the ice cream, a soft serve vanilla and chocolate swirl.

She took it and gave him another smile. He looked away and started eating his own. Watching Ebby pad over to Biscuit and sit by her.

“Th-tha--” Biscuit stammered.

Gordie looked back at the girl as tears poured out of her brown eyes. 

“Hey, hey…” For the first time, he ignored the guilt and knelt down to her height. They two were a bit away from the parlor, and from other people, on a park bench with their cones of ice cream to the side.  “What’s wrong?” He raised his hand to wipe the tears from the girls face, but felt it would be too strange, since the Ghost was just that. A stranger.

“Last time we did this…” Biscuit whispered, swallowing hard. She couldn’t form words then. Biting her lip and letting out small sobs. 

“This… This used to be a family thing...“ Gordie guessed, his voice was quiet. He wanted to try to sooth her as best he could in the moment. 

Ebby was already ahead of him. She was getting comfortable, lying down next to Biscuit, her head nuzzling Biscuits hand.

“My…” Biscuit started. Her tears didn’t stop. “My parents, s-since Jess left, since I went back to school… Since… Since Simon died.” 

When she started to hyperventilate, Gordie took his sleeve and gently wiped the tears on her cheeks.

“I think,” Biscuit sobbed. “I think my parents are going to get divorced.”

Gordie gasped, it was small and he wish he didn’t. “I’m… Sorry to hear that…” He stopped himself from saying her name even though it was on the tip of his tongue. 

“They’ve been fighting a lot--Or, since the thing with Jess happened… It’s just been hectic and scary at home.” Biscuit muttered, with her own sleeve she wiped her nose as it dripped down.

_ She shouldn’t be going through this. _

The Ghost opened his mouth to try to say something to reassure her, but she cut him off before he could say anything. “Sometimes,” She said. “I wonder if any of this would have been different if Simon was never born… Or, maybe if I was never born. Or Paul. Or-or Jessica…”

“Bis…” The name escaped Gordies mouth like an exhale.

“I started to think, maybe if I just pretended that none of this happened, everything would go back to the way it used to be.” The girl rubbed her eyes. “Like, I’m just waiting for everything to go back to the way it was.”

“And what if it never does?” Gordie whispered. He’d dealt with loss and the process of grief twice; when his mother died when he was three, unable to even remember her face, and recently with his father.

Both instances were quick, isolated events where the world still turned.

But here, in this moment, the world stopped. It stopped for this small girl, barely eleven years old. The world stopped for Biscuit countless times because it understood.

And the world started back up again as fresh tears welled in Biscuit Ryries eyes, and she got off the bench, standing as Gordie was still kneeling.

For a brief moment, they were at eye level. Her brown eyes were swollen and red from crying, and for a moment she stared into the Ghosts miss-matched eyes. And with a sniffle she pressed her head against Gordie’s shoulder. Her shoulders shook as she went into another spell of tears. Her arms wrapped around Gordie in what the ghost could only identify as a hug.

A Biscuit brand hug.

“I’m sorry…” Biscuit cried into his shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

 

***

Once things were calm, and ice cream was finished. The two started to walk back through the park, walking back to Biscuits dysfunctional house.

She hopped up onto the porch. Giving back Ebby’s leash.

“You going to be okay?” Gordie asked as Biscuit pushed the door open.

She looked back at him and gave a weak smile. “If I’m not, I know where to find you.”

 

When she disappeared behind the door, and the click of the lock separated the ghost from the little girl, Ebby whined.

“Come on, Ebs.” Gordie started to walk away from the house. 

He recalled why he felt so guilty when lowering himself to Biscuits height, or even calling her by the name she likes.

_ She’s too much like an adult. _

The realization caused his stomach to return to knots, and caused him to stop walking.

He found himself walking back to the house and stepping onto the porch, something he thought he’d never do again.

Heart pounding, he knocked on the door.

When it opened, and Biscuit was looking up at him again, he spoke.

“What’s your favorite movie right now?--”

“Trolls--”

“--Let’s watch it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!  
> \--SkQuill


End file.
